


Pushing Up Daises

by orphan_account



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Battle, Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Magic, Mild Gore, One Shot, Sad Ending, Short One Shot, Wakes & Funerals, like I mean realllllly short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A strange and unexpected goodbye.
Relationships: Star Butterfly & Marco Diaz, Star Butterfly/Marco Diaz
Kudos: 5





	Pushing Up Daises

**Author's Note:**

> A short but not really that sweet one-shot.
> 
> Marco centered in a way, which is sort of new for me.

It was all quite fast really.

Marco always hated fast. It was never on his side. Whenever he tried to do his hair too fast it would be all messed up, sticking out all willy nilly. Whenever he tried to get dressed too fast he would most likely forget to zip up his fly and no one would tell him, leaving him incredibly embarrassed when he finally noticed hours later.

But this time the fastness of the situation wasn't because of him. He couldn't have stopped it. He hated that.

The sound was petrifying. It sounded like a million sticks being cracked in half all at once. Along with the ear splitting crack was a scream. A scream that for some reason he knew so well.

_No._

She had fallen so many times. He had watched it happen. And yet now it felt so different. To see her, just lying there. 

Marco felt frozen, both in time and space. Nothing was moving, no sounds were being made. It was just him, and her.

Well, kind of her.

"Star?" The words came out so simple. He couldn't even count the number of times he had called her name with that demeanor. It was calm, oblivious because usually, she was oblivious too. But now Marco was not being naïve, he was being ignorant. Incredibly ignorant because his best friend wasn't moving and he could only think to call out her name.

"Star," he called again, this time his tone wavering slightly. He was dipping, he was dipping down from normal to far from normal.

There was no response.

Marco wasn't really looking at her per say. He kept his eyes around her, not letting them see what he knew was there.

He saw her face.

_No no no no._

She is moving, a little bit at least. Her expression is only and extended wince, although Marco knew it was worse than that. He knew she should have been crying and screaming at him for help, but she wasn't, she wasn't because she was Star.

Her lips are parted like she wants to say something, scream something, but she cant-she can't. She can't because she can barely breath.

Marco knows he can't continue his cycle of shock, that would be foolish. To stay frozen, to not rush over to her like he did.

He tried to run, but his trembling limbs make it quite difficult. He swallows hard.

Her hand is so elegantly placed over her stomach. Making it look like she is in little pain at all. But Marco knows it isn't like that. Not one bit.

The land around him was ragged, and as he dropped to the ground next to her he could feel the concrete scrape against his skin. He could feel the tiny tears he's creating in his skin through the thoroughly destroyed knees of his jeans.

"Star look at me!" He didn't mean to shout, he really didn't. But she wasn't looking at him and he hated that. He hated that she wasn't _able_ to look at him. She wasn't _able-_

"Marco," the girl mumbled, she too was wavering, dipping, dying.

"It-it's okay, your-r gonna be okay," Marco stuttered out his hand wandering it's way to hers. She wasn't cold yet, but she wasn't warm either. Star had always been so warm, shone so bright.

_She really isn't okay._

He saw the blood.

It was just so red, sickly in a way. It was seeping out of her like a waterfall. And Marco hated it.

His free hand, shaking, made it's way to her stomach. He pressed his hand over hers, putting a decent amount of pressure one the wound. That was what he was supposed to do, right?

He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about anything right now.

"I really messed up didn't I," Star whispered, her eyes staring directly at the boys blood stained hand. She didn't look surprised. Her face didn't really show anything about what was happening to her.

Marco didn't know how to respond to her words. He tried his best not to cry when he heard them. When he heard her tiny little voice calling out to him. She was weak, and yet she managed to get out a full sentence clearly.

"No no, you um, you didn't mess up," he stated, turning his gaze to her eyes. Her bluebell eyes that he had grown to love oh so much.

Marco wasn't much a conversationalist. But if he was he would be saying something really amazing right now. He would be pouring his heart out to the girl, maybe in the form of a poem. 

Yes. That would've been nice.

Maybe he would put in something about those eyes of hers. They really did compliment the tones of her hair perfectly.

Maybe; an interesting word. There were a whole lot of maybes running through Marco's head in this moment. 

_Maybe I'll get her help in time._

He squeezed the girl's hand. She only responded with the faintest of smiles.

_Maybe the bleeding will stop._

Marco shut his eyes for a second, pushing the tears back inside of him. He couldn't cry. He just couldn't.

_Maybe she'll heal. Maybe someone will save her. Maybe she won't die._

Star let out a cough. It sounded like she was strangling for breath. Marco felt something sting inside his chest. He couldn't hold them back anymore. Star felt a drop of salty wetness land on her cheek.

_Maybe she just won't make it._

Marco hated funerals. He hated the melancholy tone of the it all. he hated how everyone had to wear black, making at all a million times worse. And he hated how it only meant that he had lost something, someone actually. Someone who, now, was peaceful. Pushing up daisies.

**Author's Note:**

> Depressing, I know.
> 
> Also quick question, do any of you know what pushing up daisies means? I sure didn't before I looked it up. 
> 
> Technically, or at least according to The Free Dictionary; To be deceased. The phrase alludes to one having been buried, with daisies growing over one's burial plot.
> 
> Does it fit this story perfectly? No, not really. But it sounds cool.
> 
> Have a spectacular day!!!


End file.
